


A Pleasure to Meet You

by BubbleGumLizard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Dates, M/M, Mycroft IS the British Government, Phone Sex, Sexting, Virgin Mycroft, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Sherlock's mysterious brother at Baker Street, Greg decides to ask him out on a date to get to know him better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rating is for later chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

Greg Lestrade bounded up the stairs at 221B Baker Street. He knocked and then let himself into the room, stopping short when he saw that John and Sherlock had company. Sherlock was yelling at an attractive man in a very nice suit who was sitting in one of the armchairs, tapping an umbrella impatiently against his foot.

“If you are quite finished, Sherlock, it appears that you have a visitor,” the man said, nodding at Greg.

Sherlock turned. He was clearly very annoyed about something, which hurt Greg’s chances at getting his help. Wordlessly, Greg handed the file he was holding over to Sherlock. Sherlock looked through it and then tossed it back to Greg. “It’s a three. Come back when you have an eight.” He turned back to face the well-dressed man in the chair.

“Hello, Greg!” John said, entering from the kitchen. “What brings you over? Oh, Mycroft’s still here. ” He looked mildly disappointed at the presence of the other man, who didn’t seem to notice or care that John was upset he was there.

“Since no one else is going to, I’ll introduce us,” Greg said to the man. “Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Greg.” He held out his hand to shake.

The man stood up and shook Greg’s hand politely. “Mycroft Holmes. I suppose I shall be leaving. Would you like a ride, Detective Inspector? I have a car.”

Since Sherlock hadn’t seemed interested in the case, Greg didn’t really have a reason to stay. He nodded. “Ta, that’d be great. Pub tomorrow, John?”

John nodded and Greg followed Mycroft down the stairs. “I apologize for my boorish brother. He was not beat enough as a child.”

Greg laughed and climbed into the luxury car that was waiting after Mycroft. “It’s okay, I’ve known Sherlock long enough to not take offense. I didn’t know he had a brother, though.”

“I don’t suppose that you would. Sherlock and I are hardly close, so he wouldn’t mention me. And, as you saw, Doctor Watson despises me.”

“Why is that? I thought John was friends with everybody.”

“Oh, I kidnapped him. I had to ensure that he would be an acceptable friend for my brother. He did well.” Mycroft looked very approving as he remembered the interaction.

“Do you often kidnap people?” Greg thought that he should perhaps be more concerned about the man casually mentioning kidnapping someone, but he didn’t really sense a lot of danger with Mycroft. If he had been dangerous, John would not have let Greg go with him. Greg wasn’t so sure about Sherlock, but he knew that John would stop him from accepting a ride from someone who would hurt him.

“When necessary. I considered kidnapping you when my brother began your association, but I decided it wasn’t worth my time.”

“So you know exactly who I am, then?”

“More or less. I take an interest in my brother’s well-being.”

“Well, that’s hardly fair. You have the upper hand in any conversation we may have.”

Greg noticed that they had pulled up outside of his flat, without Greg giving any instructions to Mycroft or the driver, whom he hadn’t seen. “I tend to have the upper hand in every conversation, Detective Inspector.”

Greg watched Mycroft for a moment. The man was completely at ease in a way that would have come off as smug if it didn’t seem so natural on him, so right. There was a small smile on his face that was strangely endearing and his eyes looked like they could read every thought in Greg’s head. Knowing Sherlock, Greg didn’t doubt that this mysterious man could read him just as well as Sherlock could. Could he read the attraction that Greg was feeling? Did he know that Greg was half hard already, just by looking at the man sitting calmly in his car? Greg didn’t think that Mycroft knew he was attractive. Surely he knew that he was well dressed and he took pride in his appearance, but Greg was positive that he didn’t know how distractingly sexy he was in that suit. Greg had a sudden impulse and decided to run with it, trying to throw Mycroft off balance.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me Saturday night?” Greg asked, one hand on the door handle to make a quick escape if the answer was no.

Mycroft looked slightly confused, which made Greg smile. He had succeeded in at least evening the playing field. “Dinner? As in…”

“A date. Dinner, wine, conversation, perhaps other things.” Greg kept his voice casual, but he made his best bedroom eyes, which made Mycroft flush.

“A date,” Mycroft parroted, apparently at a loss for words.

“Aw, go on,” Greg said, reaching over and picking a piece of lint off of Mycroft’s lapel and smoothing it. “Agree to a date with me. We’ll have fun.”

Mycroft took a breath and seemed to center himself, regaining his calm demeanor from before. “I would enjoy that, Detective Inspector. Here is my card, you may contact my assistant with the details.”

Greg took the card with a small smile. No one had ever had him set the details of a date with an assistant before. He was sure that he was going to have a very interesting time going out with Mycroft Holmes.

***

The next day was Friday. Greg took a break from working to call the number on the card that Mycroft had given him.

“Hello, Detective Inspector Lestrade,” the woman who answered the phone said.

“You know who I am before I say hello?” Greg asked, laughing.

“I am very good at my job, sir.”

“And your name is…?”

“Anthea. Mr. Holmes informed me that he will be meeting you socially tomorrow night. If you provide me with a time and a place, I will ensure that he arrives punctually.”

“I can’t pick him up at his home with a dozen roses, then?” Greg joked.

“Unfortunately, we find it inadvisable to share Mr. Holmes’ home address with you at this juncture.”

“Probably wise. I’m a shady type.” He gave her the details of his favorite restaurant, an intimate Italian place he thought would be nice for a first date. He made a few more jokes, but didn’t get so much as a chuckle from Anthea. Oh well, he thought as he hung up the phone. If all went well, he was sure he’d get to know her a lot better.

That evening, he met John at their favorite pub for a pint or six. “Guess what I’m doing tomorrow night,” he said after they both had one under their belt.

“Hot date?” John joked. Since his divorce, Greg hadn’t dated anyone or even shown an interest in anyone. John had tried to set him up a couple times, but Greg had always said no. It had been twenty years since his last date and he always said that he didn’t feel like starting all over again.

“Actually, yes. With Mycroft.” Greg took a calm drink of his pint while John spluttered.

“Mycroft? Mycroft Holmes? The bloody ‘British Government’?”

“Ah, is that what he does? I gathered he was quite important.”

“He is the biggest git I’ve ever met. Why would you go on a date with him?”

“Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to see what’s under that suit.”

John shuddered. “I can’t think of Mycroft like that. It’s like thinking about your teacher having sex.”

“Or your brother-in-law?” Greg asked with a smile.

John ignored the comment and took a long drink. “I didn’t think that Mycroft dated. I’ve always assumed that he didn’t have time for sex, like Sherlock. ‘Not really his thing.’” “I hope not. It’s been ages for me and I’m very interested in him. He agreed to a date, so that’s a start.”

“Mycroft Holmes on a date. You’re mad, Lestrade.” John shook his head, making Greg laugh.

***

Saturday morning found Greg with a massive headache. He spent several hours trying to recover from the many pints he had shared with John, eventually coming home from a nice long run feeling like a human being. He took a hot shower and spent over an hour perfecting his appearance. He normally spent about ten minutes getting ready, including a shower, but he wanted to ensure that he looked perfect. Mycroft was bound to look like he stepped from the pages of a magazine, so Greg wanted to look as nice as he possibly could. He decided on a black button down shirt, no tie, with the top two buttons open, revealing what he hoped was a sexy smattering of gray chest hair. He put his best black jacket and the trousers that hugged his arse in just the right way on and carefully arranged his hair to look slightly messy.

He arrived at the restaurant early and ensured that they had been given the nicest table in the building. He set a single red rose across Mycroft’s plate and waited nervously. He wasn’t sure about the flower, but his wife had once told him that the most romantic date she had been on (not with Greg) had started with a single red rose on her plate when she arrived at the restaurant.

At precisely 8:00, Mycroft entered the restaurant. As he was led over to the table, Greg was able to have a good, long look at him. He was wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit that was striking against his pale skin. The suit fit him like angels had crafted it to his exact specifications and the sight of him in it made Greg ache with want. Greg shifted slightly so his need wasn’t so obvious and stood to greet Mycroft, pulling out his chair for him.

Mycroft picked the rose up and smelled it daintily, a smile playing at his lips. Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone light up with delight like that, especially at something so small. It was clear that Mycroft’s dating history was as sparse as Greg’s, which put Greg at easy.

“How was your week, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked.

“Call me Greg. It went well. Nothing catastrophic happened, which means it was a success. And yours?’

“I had a very productive week. It was satisfactory.”

“What is it that you do, Mr. Holmes?”

“Mycroft, please. I occupy a minor position in the government. It isn’t anything that would interest you.”

“As long as it interests you. That’s what is important, right?”

“Quite right, Gregory.” He paused while Greg ordered wine for the two of them and then looked at Greg with keen interest. “May I ask why you invited me on this date?”

“Quite frankly, I find you very attractive,” Greg said, making Mycroft flush red. “I haven’t been on any dates since my divorce two years ago and I thought that I would quite enjoy a date with you.”

“Your divorce?”

“Yes, I married Karen when I was twenty-one and we decided to end it after twenty years. It was hard for a bit, but I haven’t even thought about her in months.”

“If I may be inquisitive, are you bisexual?”

Greg smiled. He had been about his sexuality often when he was young. “I suppose I am. I’ve dated men and women and was married to a woman for a long time. It’s been ages since I was with a man. And yourself?”

“I lean more toward the homosexual end of the spectrum. My dating experience is minimal. I hold a position that intimidates most. Very few men have shown an interest in me.”

“The men you know are idiots,” Greg said, leaning forward. He was rewarded with a self-conscious smile that made him want to grab Mycroft and drag him into the nearest loo.

They had a very nice time as they ate their dinner, learning a lot about each other. They had several interests in common, mostly books and holiday destinations. When they had finished, Greg walked Mycroft outside. “Would you like to come back to mine for a cup of tea?” he asked nervously.

Mycroft froze. There was fear in his eyes, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. “I would enjoy that, however—”

Greg reached out and took Mycroft’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Just tea. Nothing more. If you like tea and you like me, come back with me.” He remembered Mycroft saying that his experience with dating was small, and was beginning to wonder just how inexperienced he was.

“I do like you and tea, however, I need to go home,” Mycroft said quietly, his eyes sad.

“Well, I had a nice time tonight,” Greg said with a hopeful smile.

“It was lovely, Gregory.” Mycroft looked down at the rose in his hand. “I would enjoy doing this again.”

Greg felt like his cheeks were going to rip apart, he smiled so widely at that. “I would love to. Would you like me to call your assistant?”

“Here is my private number. You may call and text it as you wish.” He handed Greg another card with a different number on it.

Greg pocketed the card, leaned in, and gave Mycroft a kiss on the cheek. “I will see you soon, Mycroft,” he murmured before pulling away, then turned and walked off, leaving Mycroft staring after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first smut I've written. I hope everyone has as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Mycroft sat by his bedroom window, drinking a cup of tea. He should have been working, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate. His date with Gregory had been very pleasant and he couldn’t help but think about the friendly, sexy man who was apparently interested in him. Mycroft had wanted to accept Gregory’s offer of tea, and all the implications that such an offer involved, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he was inexperienced. As a teenager, he had been shy and overweight, not the sort of boy who got many dates. He gave up on dating rather than experience the pain of being rejected and had never tried to date. Occasionally he wished that he had some experience, but he never did anything to rectify the situation, satisfied with the occasional wank in the shower when he needed release.

His phone chimed and he looked at it, sure that it was Anthea with a pressing work matter.

_So when you say ‘minimal dating experience’, what exactly do you mean? —G_

Mycroft wasn’t sure that he wanted to respond. He hadn’t told anyone that he had never so much as kissed a man. He was sure that Sherlock knew, but Sherlock wasn’t any more experienced, so he didn’t matter. He didn’t know how to tell a sexy man that he was a virgin without scaring him off. He was sure that Gregory wouldn’t be interested in teaching him everything about relationships. Someone like Gregory would expect his partner to be experienced and knowledgeable.

After a few moments, Mycroft decided to go for blunt truth and hope for the best.

_Our date tonight is the entirety of my experience. —M_

_Are you interested in gaining more experience? —G_

The response came very quickly, like Gregory had been waiting for it. An image of Gregory lying in bed, shirt unbuttoned, sprang into Mycroft’s mind and he felt a sudden urge to have one of his occasional wanks.

_Yes. —M_

_With me? —G_

_Oh, yes. —M_

Mycroft waited for a response, idly stroking himself through his trousers. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he knew that he couldn’t wait to find out what Gregory had in mind.

_Well, we should start slowly. If anything makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me. I won’t get upset if you want to stop if you’re uncomfortable. If you do something you don’t want because you think it will make me happy, I will be very upset. Okay? —G_

Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that he had agreed to a date with Gregory, who seemed to be more perfect with each passing moment.

_Yes. —M_

_Good. Do you like texting? —G_

_I like texting you. —M_

_Very good. It would be nicer to see you in person, rather than just texting, but this will do for now. Where are you? I’m in bed. —G_

Mycroft’s throat went dry at the thought of Gregory in bed. He let out a low moan and slid his trousers, which had suddenly become very tight, off. He climbed into his own bed, slipping his left hand under the waistband of his briefs and letting it rest there as he typed his response.

_Also in bed. —M_

When the text alert sounded again, there was a picture text coming through. The picture was of Gregory’s torso. He was still wearing the black shirt, but it was open, like Mycroft had imagined. He had a moderate amount of gray chest hair, with a thin trail of hair leading down his stomach, which was flat and perfectly smooth. His hand was resting on his stomach, above the waistband of his black briefs, through which Mycroft could see the outline of Gregory’s hard cock.

Mycroft groaned and stroked himself slowly, thinking about what it would be like to run his hands over that beautiful chest and feel that erection pressing against him. He looked down at himself, wanting to reciprocate with a picture, but not sure how. He had a small paunch that made him very self-conscious. No matter how much weight he lost or how much he exercised, the belly never fully went away. He eventually settled on keeping his shirt buttoned and taking a similar torso picture, but his his hand in his briefs. He felt slightly sick as he sent the text, worried that Gregory wouldn’t like the response. He didn’t have long to wait to find out.

_You’re so sexy. And such a tease. There’s not nearly enough skin in that picture. I’ll have to use my imagination. Right now, in my imagination, I’m unbuttoning that shirt and kissing my way down your chest and stomach. I’m nuzzling your cock through your briefs and mouthing you a little. —G_

Mycroft picked up the pace of his stroking, thinking about what that would feel like. After a few minutes, he realized that he needed to respond with a text and threw caution to the wind, typing the first thing he thought and sending it.

_I’m bucking up into your mouth and running my fingers through your hair. —M_

_Mmmm, lovely. I like that. I pull your briefs off and lick the head of your cock before taking you fully in my mouth. You look big, but I can handle it. —G_

_I tighten my hands in your hair. So close. —M_

Mycroft was close to coming, stroking himself and thinking of Gregory’s mouth around him, enveloping him.

_Me too. Making you feel good turns me on. I suck hard and then gently scrape my teeth along your length. I bet you’ll taste so good when you come that I’ll want to taste you every day. —G_

Mycroft did come at that, thinking of Gregory savoring the taste of him. He lay very still, enjoying the time after his orgasm, when his mind was calm and blank. When he began to think again, he was a little embarrassed that it hadn’t taken much to bring him to orgasm. He didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to disappoint Gregory.

_I came, thinking of swallowing as you came. —G_

Mycroft was surprised when the text alert came through and was even more surprised to find that he hadn’t been the only one who didn’t take very long.

_That was amazing, Gregory. —M_

_That was nothing. I have so much to show you, if you’ll let me. —G_

_Nothing would please me more. —M_

_Can I call you tomorrow night? —G_

Mycroft hesitated. He had a feeling that Gregory was advancing the relationship and he wasn’t sure if he knew how to reciprocate on the phone. He didn’t want to be too nervous and awkward when Gregory could hear him. He reflected on the fact that he hadn’t thought he would ever be able to mutually masturbate while texting, but that had gone surprisingly well.

_I will be waiting for your call with great anticipation. Good night. —M_

***

The next night around the same time, Mycroft’s phone rang. He was so excited for the phone call that he nearly dropped the phone when he was trying to answer it.

“Hello?” he said, slightly breathless from excitement. He had been daydreaming all day about Gregory and the promised phone call, until he didn’t think he could wait much longer.

“Hello, sexy,” Gregory said, his voice low and silky. “It seemed like this phone call would never happen, my day was so long.”

Mycroft moaned softly at the sound of Gregory’s voice. His memories of the man were inadequate. He had forgotten just how sexy his voice was. He muttered something inconsequential, not knowing what to say.

Gregory chuckled and began some small talk, which Mycroft participated in, happy for something to put him more at ease. The conversation got deeper from there, touching on several important topics. Eventually, Mycroft looked at the clock and realized that they had been talking for nearly two hours.

“It’s getting quite late,” he said, thinking about the pile of work he had yet to do that night.

Gregory dropped his voice low again, sending a chill down Mycroft’s spine. “I hope you have some time left, because I’ve been thinking all day about things I can do to you.”

“I’ve been hoping all day that you were thinking about things to do to me,” Mycroft confessed. His voice sounded very high and juvenile to his own ears, but he hoped that it sounded normal to Gregory.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you, mostly. Your lips look like they would be very soft.”

“They are.” Mycroft didn’t know what else to say, so he stayed silent, stroking himself lightly. He had been hoping the conversation would go in this direction, so he had undressed and slipped under the covers of his bed.

“What are you wearing?”

“Er, nothing, actually.”

It was Gregory’s turn to moan now, a low and needy sound that went straight to Mycroft’s cock. “I wish I were there to see for myself. I can’t wait to see all of you. I bet you have the most gorgeous creamy white skin.”

“Not quite. I have freckles.” Mycroft had started to think of himself and flagged a little in his stroking. He forced his mind back to Gregory’s perfect body, which he badly wanted to see and touch for himself.

“I love freckles. I can play connect the dots with my tongue. I wonder what kinds of shapes I’ll trace on you.” Mycroft shuddered as Gregory moaned again. “I’m touching myself, did I mention? I’m also naked and I’ve been slowly wanking while we talk. Your brain is almost as sexy as your body.”

“You know just what to say…” Mycroft was stroking fast again, listening to Gregory’s ragged breathing.

“Just with you. You react perfectly to everything I say. When I get my hands on you, I’m just going to talk to you and see how you react to everything I say. If I’m really good, I can get you off with just my words.”

“Like now?” Mycroft asked, feeling himself getting close to orgasm. “It’s not far off.”

Gregory’s breathing picked up and Mycroft could tell that he was also stroking himself hard and fast, like Mycroft liked it. “When I see you, I’m going to pin you up against a wall and slip my hands into your pants. I’ll stroke nice and gently at first, keeping it slow and light, but as you start to react, I’ll wrap my hand around your cock and move faster and faster until…” his words trailed off into a long, loud moan.

The sound made Mycroft orgasm, his cock jerking as he came in long spurts. When he was finished, he let out a satisfied sigh. “That was wonderful,” he said quietly into the phone. “I await our next meeting with great expectation.”

“Uh huh, me too.” Gregory seemed mostly at a loss for words, so Mycroft bade him good night, wishing once again that he was able to kiss the man on the other end of the phone line.

***

Two days later, Mycroft paid Sherlock another visit. He had some family business to settle with his brother, so he made some time and put on his best mental Sherlock armor. He rapped on the door to 221 Baker Street with the handle of his umbrella, politely greeting the landlady as she let him in and directed him up the stairs.

When he entered Sherlock’s flat, he was brought up short as he saw Gregory sitting on the couch with John, both of them laughing about something. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, scowling at the two of them. Mycroft and Gregory had been texting off and on for the past couple days and had made a date for the following night, but he hadn't expected to see Gregory at Baker Street.  It was a pleasant surprise and he hoped Gregory felt the same.

“Good afternoon, brother, John, Detective Inspector,” Mycroft said formally, looking at all of them in turn. When he looked at Gregory, he was inwardly pleased to see that Gregory was looking at him as a starving man might look at a particularly delectable cut of beef before catching himself and making his expression one of mild, polite interest.

“What do you want?” Sherlock asked, standing and assuming a hostile posture.

Mycroft gave Sherlock the necessary papers, waiting while Sherlock looked them over, cursed Mycroft’s name, and then signed them. While he waited, Mycroft let his gaze wander over to where Gregory and John were having what appeared to be a very intense conversation in hushed tones. Gregory caught Mycroft’s eye and gave him a broad smile, which warmed Mycroft’s heart.

Finished with the papers, Sherlock gave them back to Mycroft and then stalked out of the room. A slamming door told Mycroft that Sherlock had gone to his room to sulk, as was usual. Mycroft turned to say goodbye to the other two, when he noticed that John did not look very happy.

“Is something amiss?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“I made him promise not to say anything to Sherlock about us. Sherlock’s petulant reaction isn’t something we need right now.”

“What exactly does Doctor Watson know about…us?” Mycroft asked, suddenly worried that he was the subject of gossip.

Gregory stood and walked over to Mycroft. “Just that we’ve been on one date and have another planned. He’s my mate, we talk.” His eyes were reassuring, as if he knew what was worrying Mycroft.

“Very good.  I am afraid I must be going now. Farewell, Doctor Watson. Gregory, it was a pleasure to see you again.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could give me a lift again,” Gregory said.

Mycroft smiled. “It would be my pleasure.” He opened the door for Gregory, following him down the stairs to the waiting car.

When they were inside the car, Gregory nodded at the divider between the back seat and driver. “Is that sound proof?” he asked.

Mycroft hit a button, causing a black divider to rise. “That one is,” he said with a smile.

“Good,” Gregory said, and launched himself at Mycroft.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... went a little strange. Turns out this story is going to be quite a bit longer than I initially intended. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments. They make me so happy and make me want to write more. In the past two weeks I've written more than I've written in the past two years and it's all because of you lovely people.

Greg landed in Mycroft’s lap with one hand resting on the back of his neck. He brought his face as close to Mycroft’s as it could be without touching and brought his other hand up to caress

Mycroft’s face. There was uncertainty in Mycroft’s eyes, so Greg smiled reassuringly.

“You tell me when to stop, yeah?” he asked. Mycroft nodded slowly and Greg leaned in, giving him plenty of time to stop it, and kissed him softly on the lips. “Alright?”

At Mycroft’s hesitant nod Greg kissed him again, deepening the kiss. He felt Mycroft tremble slightly and pulled back, his sweetest smile on his face. “That was good,” he said quietly.

Mycroft covered his face with one hand, turning away from Greg. “That was atrocious. I apologize.”

Greg pulled the hand away, dipping down to give Mycroft a short, firm kiss. “It was good. I promise.” The car stopped and Greg kissed Mycroft one last time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

Mycroft stayed silent and Greg left the car, wondering if he had done something wrong. He went into his flat and spent some time going over the incident in his mind, wondering just what he could have done to upset Mycroft. He didn’t think he had been pushy or had gone too far: after their text messages and phone call, he had assumed that Mycroft would be interested in making the relationship more physical. Seeing each other had been a surprise, so perhaps Mycroft hadn’t mentally prepared himself yet.

***

Greg had fallen asleep on his couch watching television in nothing but his pants. He rolled off of it when he heard the knocking on the door and groggily stumbled to let whoever it was in. He opened the door to see Mycroft standing there, looking strangely energetic.

“Mycroft? What time is it?”

“Time? Oh, it’s—oh, it’s the middle of the night.” His face fell as he looked at his watch, as if he hadn’t realized how late it was. “I apologize for bothering you, I didn’t realize…”

“Just get in here,” Greg said, pulling Mycroft into the flat and shutting the door. Now that he was more awake, he recognized that Mycroft was excited about something, not an emotion that he had expected out of the normally stoic man.

Greg led the way to the living room. He turned back to Mycroft to offer him some tea, when Mycroft seized his shoulders and kissed him. Surprised, Greg returned the kiss, which was far more passionate than their earlier kisses. Mycroft trailed his hands down Greg’s chest and behind his back, pressing their bodies together tightly. Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s neck, letting one hand rest on the back of his head.

Mycroft maneuvered them toward the couch, making Greg fall and land on it. Mycroft fell with him, straddling Greg’s lap. Without thinking, Greg dropped his hands down to Mycroft’s hips and ground up against him, making Mycroft gasp.

“I’m sorry, I—” Greg started, but was interrupted by Mycroft capturing his lips again and grinding down into Greg. After a few moments, Greg ended the kiss and took a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m feeling a little exposed here, Mycroft,” he said quietly, looking down at their bodies. Mycroft was wearing his usual suit and Greg was naked except for his pants. All of him was very visible, especially his enthusiasm for the kiss. Greg felt himself blush as Mycroft followed his gaze, but Mycroft just licked his lips and smiled at Greg.

“We can either put a suit on you or take a suit off of me,” Mycroft said with feigned innocence. “Which would you prefer?”

Greg grinned and started unbuttoning Mycroft’s waistcoat, sliding that and his jacket off together. He set to work on the buttons while Mycroft leaned down and started kissing Greg’s neck, hitting just the right spot to make Greg’s brain turn to mush and his fingers stop moving. When Mycroft stopped, Greg groaned with frustration and finished unbuttoning Mycroft’s shirt.

He ran his hands over the smooth, nearly hairless chest, amazed at how perfect it was. He let his thumb brush over a nipple, which made Mycroft jerk back as if he had been burned.

“Alright?” Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded. “That was unexpected.”

Greg hesitantly leaned forward and licked the other nipple. Mycroft trembled, but didn’t jump back, and moaned when Greg scraped his teeth against it. He rolled the other nipple in his fingertips as he continued to work his mouth, until Mycroft was panting and Greg could feel his erection through his trousers.

Mycroft moved to unbutton the trousers, but Greg stopped him. “I think you should leave those on,” he said quietly.

“Why?” Mycroft asked, looking confused and a little suspicious.

“I don’t want to rush this. I want everything to be perfect.” Greg reached up and Mycroft’s lower lip with his thumb.

“This is perfect.”

“No, this is just now. It will be better if we wait a little longer. The more comfortable you are, the better it will be.”

“I will bow to your experience.” His voice sounded different, formal like it had been when they first met.

“Mycroft, look at me. I’m attracted to you, so attracted to you that every time I see you I want to throw you up against the nearest wall and shag you senseless. But I also enjoy spending time with you and I want this relationship to be something. Rushing into bed together, especially if you’re not ready, will only hurt our relationship. When I was young, I destroyed a lot of promising relationships by rushing to the physical. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you.” He didn’t add that he felt like he was falling in love with Mycroft, but he wanted to.

Mycroft studied Greg’s face for a long moment before finally nodding. “Thank you for that. I enjoy your company as well.” He looked like he wanted to add something, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Greg asked, acting on a hunch. “No funny business, just cuddling and sleeping.”

Mycroft smiled, standing and helping Greg up. “I would love to.”

***

The next morning Greg found himself wrapped protectively around Mycroft, his face buried in the back of Mycroft’s neck. When he shifted, he discovered that Mycroft was awake and typing away on his phone.

“Good morning,” Mycroft said with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“Morning. Working?”

“Just a minor incident. I will be finished shortly. Then I was hoping that I may be allowed to take you to breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me. It’s Saturday, so I don’t have work. If you’re free, would you like to make a day of it? I fancy a nice long walk around the park today.”

“Sounds lovely. I shall inform Anthea of our plans.”

“Does Anthea need to know everything you do?”

“Anthea keeps my schedule. If I need to change my schedule, I tell her.”

“Did you have something scheduled for today?”

“Not necessarily.” His voice was cagey and his face had resumed the bland expression he used when he was trying to be unreadable.

Greg narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“Hiding? Why should I need to hide anything?” Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

“I understand if there are things you can’t share with me because of your work. There are things I can’t share with you regarding my work. It’s the nature of our jobs. You can just say that instead of trying to keep secrets while looking innocent.” Greg was a little annoyed that Mycroft wasn’t just being open about his work being confidential.

“There is no reason for me to have secrets. I’m simply a minor government official.”

Greg smiled. “Right. Well, you go ahead and finish dealing with your minor incident, you minor government official.”

“Just a cog in the machine, Gregory.”

“Of course. I’ll be in the shower.”

They spent a lovely morning walking around the park and returned to Greg’s flat for lunch. The afternoon was wasted in front of the television, watching old movies. When it was time for their date to officially begin, Mycroft looked down at himself in despair. He was wearing some of Greg’s clothes that he had borrowed for the day.

“Have I mentioned that these clothes are atrocious?” Mycroft asked, with a teasing smile on his face.

“Are you trying to tell me that you want a takeaway for dinner?”

“Sounds delicious,” Mycroft said, leaning his head on Greg’s shoulder.

“I’ll need to move to order dinner.”

“Anthea can do it,” Mycroft said, taking his phone out of his pocked and typing something on it.

Greg put his hand over Mycroft’s hands, stopping him from typing. “We can order our own food.”

“It would not be prudent to have food delivered here. Anthea will pick it up for us.”

“Why can’t we have food delivered?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, pulled his phone away from Greg, and stood up. “Perhaps you should come with me.”

Perhaps it was his job, or maybe he just his nature, but Greg was immediately suspicious. “Why? Where are we going?”

“We need to go to my office.”

Greg just stared at him as Mycroft began to put his shoes on. “Now?”

“Please just come with me. Trust me.”

Wordlessly, Greg followed Mycroft, not asking how the driver knew to have the pull up as they were walking outside. He didn’t say anything on the car ride, just watched Mycroft curiously. Mycroft was silent as well, occasionally glancing at Greg with a worried expression on his face.

When the car stopped, Greg was surprised to see a very large house instead of an office building. He still remained silent, following Mycroft out of the car. When they reached the door, a doorman opened it. Mycroft led Greg into a very large, richly decorated dining room. “I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” Mycroft said quietly.

“What?” Greg asked incredulously.

“Your security clearance isn’t high enough for this. It’s a silly formality, but I need you to sign this paper that says you won’t tell anyone what you’ve learned here tonight.” Mycroft looked embarrassed, but his voice was firm.

Greg shrugged, read the paper over to ensure that he was signing what Mycroft said, and signed it. Smiling, Mycroft led Greg out of the dining room and up the stairs. They entered one of the doors off of the hallway and found Anthea sitting at a large desk, typing rapidly on a computer.

“Good evening sir. Are you sure this is wise?” she asked Mycroft, not even glancing at Greg.

Mycroft nodded. “Positive.”

“Very well. I will be here if you need anything.”

Mycroft smiled fondly at her and opened another door, which led into an office. He motioned for Greg to sit in an armchair near a fireplace and sat in the other one. There was a knock on the door and a man in a uniform entered with two glasses of brandy.

Mycroft handed one to Greg, took a long drink of the other one, and then sighed quietly. “You may have heard Sherlock refer to me as the ‘British Government.’”

Greg nodded slowly. He had thought Sherlock and John were being hyperbolic when they said that and that Mycroft held a very high ranking position in government.

“That is not an example of Sherlock’s flair for the dramatic. I am, if anyone is, the man who runs the British government.”

Greg took a drink of his brandy and studied him for a moment. He thought he could read Mycroft pretty well and if it weren’t so ridiculous, he would have been sure that Mycroft was telling the truth.

“You do not believe me,” Mycroft said quietly. “That is expected. If you immediately believed me, I would doubt your ability as a Detective Inspector. There is a file on the table next to you. If you do not mind, I have some matters that require my attention. Read the file, think about it, and ring the bell when you are finished.” He nodded at a bell near the fireplace.

Greg nodded, put his brandy down, and picked up the file. Mycroft left the room, leaving Greg to read on his own. He read it over twice, making sure that every word said what it should. After he was finished, he drank the rest of his brandy and then drank the rest of the brandy that Mycroft had left.

The file contained certain pieces of proof of Mycroft’s claim, things that Greg knew he could never share with another living person. After he had thought for nearly half an hour he rang the bell and sat down to wait for Mycroft to return.

Mycroft came back, Chinese takeaway with him. The two of them began to eat the food in silence, neither of them making eye contact.

After they had eaten, Mycroft cleared the dishes away and returned to the room, sitting down and looking calmly at Greg. Greg could see a nervous energy underneath the calm, carefully hidden but apparent to Greg, who had taken to studying Mycroft’s expressions. Greg said nothing, wondering what Mycroft was going to do.

After a few minutes, Mycroft shifted uncomfortably. “If you wish to end our association, I understand. I shall ensure that we no longer--”

“Why now?” Greg interrupted him. “Why did you tell me this now? We haven’t been seeing each other very long.”

Mycroft look surprised. He clearly hadn’t anticipated the question, but Greg couldn’t understand how someone as careful as Mycroft could be trusting Greg, a relative stranger, with such sensitive information.

“There is one person I trust completely. One man in the world I know will never really do anything to hurt me or my work. No matter how acrimonious our relationship may seem, or any act he may claim is a betrayal, Sherlock is my most trustworthy advisor and friend,” Mycroft explained. Greg had suspicions that the animosity between Mycroft and Sherlock was affected and he was pleased to have those suspicions confirmed.

Mycroft took his phone out of his pocket, tapped on it shortly, and handed it to Greg. Greg looked down and read the text message on the screen.

_Lestrade is a good man. Trust him. You couldn’t do better. --S_

Greg was shocked. He knew that Sherlock cared for him, no matter what he said. To see him giving Mycroft his blessing for the relationship, especially after learning that Mycroft trusted Sherlock so well.

Greg handed the phone back. He couldn’t help but smile. He stood and took Mycroft’s hand, pulling him up. He kissed Mycroft tenderly, enveloping the taller man in his arms and holding him. “I don’t want to end anything,” he whispered.

Greg felt Mycroft’s body relax with relief. Mycroft rested his head on Greg’s shoulder, allowing himself to be held. It was clear to Greg that despite Mycroft’s immense power, or perhaps because of it, Mycroft needed a confidant, someone apolitical who would be there when Mycroft needed some reassurance. He was happy with the thought that he could be that person and he reached up and ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair.

“Shall we go to bed?”

Mycroft nodded, pulling away from Greg and rang the bell. Anthea entered with an expectant look on her face. “Sir?”

“Gregory and I will be retiring for the night.”

“Very good. I shall alert the staff. I plan to work for a bit yet tonight. Ring if you need anything.” Greg was surprised to see her wink.

“What was the reason for the wink?” Greg asked when Anthea left.

Mycroft reddened. “She has been dropping hints about safe sex since we made our first date. Anthea is very protective.”

“I’m glad you have her to watch over you, then,” Greg said with a smile. “Is there a bedroom in this palace?”

“Hardly a palace. Simply an old family house.” Mycroft took Greg’s hand and led him from the room, back the way they had entered. The lights in the hallway had been dimmed and there was no sign that there were other people in the house.

Mycroft led Greg down the long hallway, through a very heavy door with a large lock that Mycroft unlocked with a key he seemed to pull out of thin air. When they were on the other side and it was secured, Mycroft seemed to drop his air of authority. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. “Anthea and Sherlock are the only people with keys to this section of the house. Besides myself, of course.”

Greg looked around. The utilitarian hallway had given way to a warmly decorated, homey hall with several open doors. Looking in the rooms, Greg saw a library, a sitting room, and finally, a lavish bedroom. “Did you do this?” he asked, motioning into the room.

Confused, Mycroft followed him to the door to the bedroom. He let out a short laugh when he could see through the door. There were at least two dozen candles spread throughout the room, casting a soft, romantic light. The bed had been turned down and there was an open bottle of champagne chilling next to two glasses and a plate of strawberries.

“This would be Anthea. She has always been something of a romantic.”

“How lovely.” Greg was thrilled to have such a romantic setup for their date.

“Will you please excuse me for a moment?” Mycroft asked. “Please, make yourself comfortable, I shall return momentarily.” He vanished down the hall, leaving Greg to settle himself in the room, wondering what Mycroft was up to now.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft went through the doorway to his dressing room that was down the hall instead of the one in the bedroom. He carefully removed his clothing, replacing it with black silk boxers, a dressing gown, and slippers. He checked himself carefully in the mirror to make sure that he looked perfect, then opened a cabinet and turned on the stereo it contained. A recording of a piano playing a beautiful melody began playing on the speakers in the dressing room and bedroom. Thinking about how pleased he was with the melody, he returned to the bedroom through the hallway, knocking on the bedroom door before entering. He stopped short with his mouth hanging open when he saw Gregory lying on the bed, naked but for his briefs.

“Cat got your tongue?” Gregory asked with a smile.

“I suddenly do not seem to have enough blood to use my brain,” Mycroft murmured, holding the flowers out to Gregory.

“You suggested that I make myself comfortable, so I took the liberty.”

“Feel free to take any liberties you deem appropriate,” Mycroft said, sitting on the bed next to Gregory.

Gregory cocked his head to the side. “What is this music? I quite like it.”

Mycroft blushed, looking down at the bed. “I’m very pleased that you are enjoying it. I composed it.”

“You wrote this?” Gregory asked, sitting up.

Mycroft nodded. “And played it. It’s how you make me feel.”

Gregory leaned forward and kissed Mycroft softly. Mycroft sighed and relaxed into the kiss. Before he knew what was happening, Gregory and flipped him across the bed so Mycroft was lying on the bed and Gregory was straddling him. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

Gregory leaned forward and Mycroft suddenly couldn’t breathe. He felt ready to move their physical relationship farther, but now that he was confronted with it (or, more precisely, being poked in the stomach by it), he was suddenly terrified.

Noticing Mycroft’s reaction, Gregory sat back up. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I won’t be upset. You need to be comfortable.”

Mycroft nodded. “I am comfortable, I just...it was sudden.”

“I won’t do that again.”

“No!” Mycroft said forcefully. He blushed and looked away from Gregory. “I liked it. I enjoy you taking charge. In no aspect of my life is anyone able to take charge of me. I will enjoy bowing to your expertise. I have so far.”

“Speaking of that,” Gregory said, sliding off of Mycroft. “I’d like you to show me.”

“Show you?”

“Yes, show me. Show me how you have ‘bowed to my expertise’. What did you do?”

“You want me to…”

Gregory grinned and nodded. “Yes, very much.”

Mycroft didn’t know what to do. He knew what Gregory was asking him to do, but doing that alone and doing it with an audience were two very different things. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to perform adequately for Gregory and he didn’t want their first in person sexual encounter to be unsatisfying for either of them. He was afraid that if he ruined this experience, everything would be ruined.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said quietly, looking away from Gregory.

Gregory took Mycroft’s chin in his hand and turned his head so that their eyes locked. “You won’t disappoint me as long as you keep talking to me..”

“This makes me anxious,” Mycroft confessed. He very rarely admitted weakness to anyone and he was screaming inside at this admission, berating himself internally for being so incompetent at something. He was sure that Gregory would see how timid he was and decide that he could easily find someone better.

Gregory just smiled and scooted back until he was sitting on Mycroft’s knees. He pushes Mycroft’s dressing gown back so that his entire front was exposed. Gregory trailed ran his hands up Mycroft’s thighs, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Mycroft’s boxers and pulling them down.

An almost inaudible intake of breath and dilated pupils as Gregory looked at him gave Mycroft all the encouragement he needed. He reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock, closing his eyes and tugging on himself firmly. His erection, which had subsided somewhat at the thought of being so exposed before Gregory, sprang to life at his touch and he moaned.  
Mycroft brought to mind his memories of that first night, when they had been texting each other. His eidetic memory came in quite useful as he was able to bring the text messages Gregory had sent to the front of his mind, especially the picture. Mycroft began wanking, forgetting that Gregory was there.

A load moan reminded him of his audience and Mycroft opened his eyes to see Gregory still sitting on Mycroft’s knees, touching himself through his briefs and moaning at the sight of Mycroft. This encouraged Mycroft, made him bolder. He flipped Gregory over, swapping their positions, and straddled Gregory’s stomach. He kept pulling on himself, moaning Gregory’s name and a seemingly endless stream of profanity that surprised him.

Just as Mycroft was nearing the precipice of his orgasm, his phone alert sounded and the intercom blasted Anthea’s voice into the room. “Sir? I apologize for the interruption, but you are needed urgently.”

Mycroft let go of himself and fell onto the bed. He had asked for no interruptions, which really meant “no interruptions unless the world is going to end and I need to save it.” Anthea had been pressuring him to have a social life for several years, so he knew that whatever it was truly was urgent.

“You have to go right now?” Gregory asked, looking very unhappy.

Mycroft sighed, standing and pulling his dressing gown back on. “If she says it’s urgent, it’s urgent. Stay? Hopefully it won’t be long.”

Gregory nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Mycroft’s lips. Mycroft left the room to get dressed and return to his office, hoping that he would get to kill whoever caused this interruption.

***

Six hours later, disaster narrowly averted, Mycroft returned to his bedroom. He thanked his parents for passing on their need for little sleep as he checked the time and climbed into bed with Gregory, who was fast asleep. He curled up around his snoring boyfriend, breathing in his scent and feeling his whole body relax. It wasn’t long until he had fallen asleep as well.

When he woke up two hours later to Anthea’s voice, he was still wrapped around Gregory and he was smiling. He kissed Gregory’s shoulder and began getting ready for the day.

It wasn’t until Mycroft had been working for over an hour that there was a knock on the door and Gregory entered the office. “Did you even come back to bed?” Gregory asked, sitting down across the desk.

“Oh yes, I was there for several hours.” Mycroft told himself that the definition of “several” was very subjective and poured Gregory a cup of tea.

“How many hours a day do you work?”

“As long as there isn’t a crisis, as there was last night, only about sixteen.”

“Sixteen hours every day?” Gregory looked horrified and Mycroft was suddenly afraid that Gregory hadn’t realized how much time and energy his occupation required. “When do you sleep?”

“I do not require very much sleep. I have enough time for adequate sleep. I understand if you worry that I don’t have enough time for you. If you require a partner who is able to be more available…”

“Don’t be daft, Mycroft. I knew you worked a lot, but sixteen hours a day is a lot. I’ll just have to come visit and distract you as much as I can,” he added with a smile.

Mycroft stood, walked around his desk, and pulled Gregory up for a kiss. “The country may fall to pieces, but you can distract me whenever you would like.”

The door opened suddenly and Mycroft knew who it was without looking: the only person who barged past Anthea’s desk was his brother.

“Must you two do that?” Sherlock asked, dropping into a chair by the fire.

Gregory glanced at Sherlock and then kissed Mycroft again. “I should go home. I, unlike you, need rest. I have to be fresh and energetic for work tomorrow.”

Mycroft smiled and kissed Gregory back. “I would prefer it if you never left.”

Gregory just smiled, kissed Mycroft’s cheek, and pulled away. “Bye, Sherlock. Pleasure seeing you, as always.”

“Don’t lie, Lestrade. Now leave. I have to talk to my idiot brother.”

Mycroft nearly laughed. Sometimes Sherlock tried too hard to convince people that they hated each other. With a knowing smile, Gregory left, pausing at the door to wave at Mycroft and blow him a kiss.

“He knows our relationship is an act,” Mycroft said, sitting down in the other chair and ringing for tea.

Sherlock shrugged. “You are an idiot. Sometimes,” he added with a smile.

“What is bothering you?” Mycroft asked with a frown. Sherlock was at his most insulting, even as a joke, when he was upset about something.

Sherlock sighed a sigh so heavy that it suggested the world was coming to an end. “John.”

“Oh? What is the good doctor doing now? Or is it what he isn’t doing?” Mycroft asked slyly.

“I don’t know what to do about him. I have been hinting as strongly as possible.” He straightened slightly and put a sneer on his face as Anthea entered the room. When he took the cup of tea from the tray she carried, he muttered something insulting. Anthea traded grins with Mycroft before leaving, otherwise ignoring Sherlock.

“Perhaps you should do something more than hint.” Mycroft took a sip of his tea, savoring the moment. He enjoyed these conversations with Sherlock very much. He was surprised that they had now turned to conversations about romantic issues: other than one or two conversations after some painful experiences Sherlock had as an adolescent, they never discussed their romantic lives (or lack thereof).

“But what would I do? My level of experience does not allow for any confidence in my ability to begin a conversation like that.”

“I doubt you would have to sweep John off his feet. He shouldn’t expect any big romantic gesture. Just tell him how you feel.”

“But what if he doesn’t reciprocate? He would leave.”

Mycroft had seen enough interactions between John and Sherlock to know that John wanted Sherlock as much as Sherlock wanted John. He knew that his brother wouldn’t believe that, however, so he put his mind to a solution to the problem.

Their conversation turned to other subjects, but Sherlock remained sulky throughout the meeting, which ended far too soon for Mycroft’s liking, leaving him to his work.

***

“Hello?” Gregory asked from the other end of the phone line.

“Good evening. I was hoping you would be available for a few minutes. To talk.” Mycroft knew he was taking a chance, but he didn’t know how else to help Sherlock.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” Gregory sounded worried and Mycroft mentally kicked himself.

“It’s Sherlock. He finds himself interested in pursuing a romantic relationship, but he is out of his element.”

“John?”

“Who else?” Mycroft was glad that Gregory knew who it was: it would make the rest of the conversation easier.

“John clearly fancies him. Why doesn’t he just say something?”

“He’s scared.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked suspiciously.

“I worry about him. He doesn’t want to lose the friendship.”

“And you want me to say something to John?”

Mycroft was caught off guard. He was hoping to be more subtle about his interference, but it appeared that Gregory could read him better than he thought. “If you think it’s best.”

Gregory chuckled. “I’m meeting John for a drink in an hour. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your name out of it.”

“That is much appreciated.”

“I can always cancel on John if you’re free to express your appreciation.” Gregory’s voice dipped down into the silky voice that went right to Mycroft’s cock.

Mycroft quickly sent a message to Anthea that he was not to be disturbed and smiled. “Unfortunately, I have some pressing business. I am, however, free for the next ten minutes.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to tell me what we would do if you were free.”

“With great pleasure, my dear Gregory,” Mycroft said in his own attempt at a sexy voice, which made Gregory groan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've been able to write! Life is so crazy right now. I barely have time to think, let alone sit down and write. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I wrote most of it at work, between customers (that's mainly why there's no smut -- I can't write that at work). There are probably a bunch of errors. I don't have a beta, so I'm on my own for proofreading and I'm bad at catching my own mistakes, so sorry about that.
> 
> Enjoy!

John was waiting for Greg when he arrived at the pub. He seemed to have been there for quite a while and he was staring moodily into his pint. “Evening,” Greg said, sitting next to him.

“Evening,” John replied morosely.

“What’s the matter with you?” Greg asked cheerfully, ordering a pint for himself.

“What do you think is the matter with me?”

“Sherlock?”

John nodded and took a drink. “He’s been acting odd all week. And then today he disappeared for an hour and came back in a mood. The day had been going so well until then. I wish I knew where he went.”

“Oh, he was at Mycroft’s.” Greg spoke without thinking and then froze: he had told John about his first date with Mycroft, but they hadn’t spoken since then and John didn’t know anything that had happened.

“Oh, so that’s going well, then.” John grinned and Greg blushed. “It’s not a surprise that he was there, considering the mood he was in.”

“I don’t think Mycroft put him in the bad mood. Actually, I think Sherlock went there for advice.”

“What would Sherlock ask Mycroft for advice about?”

Greg shrugged. “I don’t know, mate. They kicked me out of the room to talk. I only heard Sherlock say something about my relationship with Mycroft. Maybe wants to ask someone out on a date.”

John stared at Greg, looking faintly ill. “Who would he want to date?”

“I dunno. Lots of people want him, I suppose. What men does he know who are single?”

“You think he’s interested in men?” John was being careful to sound only mildly interested, but Greg knew better. John was only recently coming to terms with his less-than-straight sexuality and he hadn’t yet told Greg about it. Greg knew, of course, but he was too polite to bring it up if John wasn’t ready.

“Of course he is. Can you imagine Sherlock with a woman?”

“I can hardly imagine Sherlock with anyone.”

“You’re right about that. Well, except for you of course. As friends, obviously,” Greg added the last bit as an afterthought, watching John’s reactions carefully.

John let out a shaky breath. “Sherlock with me. Silly thought.”

Proceeding carefully, Greg set his drink down. “Is it, though? You two might do well together. You certainly do well as roommates.”

“Being roommates with someone and dating are too very different things.”

“That’s true. But you already do a lot for him. I think the only thing that would change in your relationship is the sex.”

“Sex?” John licked his lips, looking terrified.

“Oh yes. Think about how those Holmes minds work: they learn things so quickly.”

“I have to go,” John said abruptly, leaving without even paying his tab.

Greg chuckled, paid for both of them, and sent a text off to Mycroft.

_Mission accomplished. —G_

***

“There’s some posh git in your office, sir,” Sally Donovan said as Greg arrived at the office the next morning.

Guessing who it was, Greg smiled and headed in. Donovan followed closely behind him, so he made sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “Good morning. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade,” he said holding his hand out to shake.

Mycroft stood and shook Greg’s hand, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “Mycroft Holmes. Good morning.”

Sally cleared her throat and Greg ignored her. As he sat, she stood behind him, leaning against the wall and staring at Mycroft.

“Any relation to Sherlock?” she asked icily.

Mycroft favored her with his sharpest gaze. Greg nearly shivered watching Mycroft silence Sally with a look and bit his lip to save himself from embarrassment.

Mycroft turned back to Greg, but did not lessen the intensity of his stare. Greg shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “How may I help you, Mr. Holmes?”

“It concerns my brother.”

“Sherlock?” Greg asked. Mycroft gave a curt nod, keeping his eyes trained on Greg and not looking up when Sally muttered something rude under her breath.

“He has found himself embroiled in something of a political scandal. I was hoping that you might be able to rein him in.”

“I’m afraid that Sherlock is hard to control. Have you spoken to John Watson?”

“Ah.” Mycroft grimaced. “Dr. Watson is not very receptive to my pleas for help. I have been unable to reach either of them.”

Greg couldn’t help himself: he snorted. He found it ridiculous that John, of all people, was unaware of the true nature of the relationship between Mycroft and Sherlock.

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and Greg felt the blood drain from his face. This side of Mycroft was certainly chilling. He had never really allowed Mycroft to intimidate him and it was a turn on.

“Why should we care what Sherlock Holmes does?” Sally asked.

“I should think that you would want to protect someone who increases your solve rate.” Mycroft’s voice was mild, but with an edge to it that could have been interpreted as threatening.

“I am afraid that I agree with DS Donovan,” Greg said, trying to keep his intentions clear in his eyes for Mycroft to read. They hadn’t discussed how public they would be with their relationship, but it appeared that they were both interested in keeping it quiet for the time being. “Personally, I am quite fond of your brother, but professionally, I don’t have the time or resources to spare to help him.”

“That’s not what I said,” Sally muttered, both Greg and Mycroft ignoring her.

“Then perhaps I am asking you as a personal favor, Detective Inspector.”

Greg nodded. “I will contact Sherlock and see what I can do to help.”

Mycroft smiled. He handed a file marked “confidential” to Greg and then stood, holding out his hand to shake again. “Thank you, Detective Inspector.”

Greg shook hands briefly, running his thumb over the back of Mycroft’s hand and hoping that Sally wouldn’t notice.

“Why should you help him?” Sally asked, sitting down in front of the desk after Mycroft left.

“Sherlock is a friend of mine, Sally,” Greg reminded her, pulling out his phone and sending a text to Sherlock.

“I think he fancies you,” she said thoughtfully. “Mycroft, not Sherlock,” she added, making Greg look up sharply.

“What on Earth makes you think that?”

“The way he looked at you. Bloody silly name, Mycroft.”

Greg fought the urge to snap at her and instead shot her a glare, which wasn’t an unusual response from him. “I think it suits him,” Greg said in what he hoped was a casual voice.

“You fancy him, too,” Sally said accusingly.

“You have to admit, he wears that suit well,” Greg said appreciatively. He was sure that Sally didn’t think there was actually anything between him and Mycroft, so he was safe in being a little open.

Sally shrugged. “I suppose, but he’s so rude.”

“No more rude than you were,” Greg pointed out. “You judged him based on his name and the quality of his clothing before he had a chance to say anything.”

“You should have seen how he walked in here like he owned the place.”

Greg shrugged. His phone rang — Mycroft calling. “I need to take this,” he said, nodding at the door. Sally nodded and left, pausing at the door like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

“Hey there,” Greg said, answering the phone.

“I really am worried about Sherlock. I have information that he’s mixed up in something nasty and I can’t reach him.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted an excuse to see me.”

“Well, I could have called you and sent the file with a messenger.” Greg could hear a smile in Mycroft’s voice and he grinned.

“I must say, when you gave Sally that look…”

“So that’s Sally? She was very rude.”

“You know she hates Sherlock. Apparently that extends to you as well.”

“Sherlock and I are very different people.”

“Well, give it some time. I’m sure it won’t be long before she just dislikes you.”

“I am filled with anticipation,” Mycroft said drily.

“I miss you,” Greg said, suddenly longing to see Mycroft and touch him.

“Would you like to join me for lunch?”

Greg looked at his desk. He had a lot of paperwork to do and he had a feeling that if he managed to reach Sherlock, his situation would take up a lot of time. “I would love to. I’ll probably head over to Sherlock’s in a bit, assuming he doesn’t respond to my text, we can meet up somewhere near there.”

“Let me know when to pick you up. Goodbye, Gregory.”

Greg hung up the phone after bidding Mycroft farewell and sighed as he dug into his paperwork.

“New girlfriend?” Sally asked, sticking her head into the office. “I haven’t seen you look so depressed to be at work in ages. Not since the last one.”

“Not quite, Sally.”

“New boyfriend?”

Greg looked up at Sally. He had never hidden his bisexuality, but he hadn’t dated a man in years and he hadn’t expected anyone at work to know. “What makes you ask that?”

Sally grinned and shrugged. “I am a detective.”

Greg smiled. “New boyfriend. I quite like this one. We’re having lunch.”

“You’ll have to bring him by so I may meet him and judge him.”

“If you give him a chance, I think you’ll like him.”

“I doubt it. I never like anyone you date. None of them are ever good enough for oyu.”

“This one is. He’s probably too good for me.”

“Impossible. Well, I’ll see you later, Boss. Enjoy your lunch.”

***

Greg left 221B Baker Street and swore as he checked his watch. It was nearly midnight: Sherlock’s situation had turned into a race throughout London’s streets and the three of them nearly getting killed by an angry politician’s aide. An arrest and hospital visit later, Greg had just seen to it that John and Sherlock arrived safely home. He had known that it would take a while for he and John to settle Sherlock, so he had sent the cab away. Now it was so late that he would probably have to walk.

He had only been walking for five minutes when a sleek black car pulled up to the curb next to him. Smiling, Greg got in.

“Evening,” he said, leaning over and giving Mycroft a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Mycroft asked, unbuttoning Greg’s shirt halfway to look at the bandage on his shoulder.

Greg smiled, allowing Mycroft to check him over. Mycroft had wanted to go to hospital with Greg, but Greg made him promise to stay at work and not too worry.

“I’m fine, Mycroft. Did you just happen to be passing?”

Mycroft smiled, sitting back and holding Greg’s hand tightly. “John called me. He thought I might want to give you a ride home ‘since I didn’t have the decency to come to hospital and make sure that you were alright.’”

Greg rolled his eyes. “I’m not a child. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”

“Is this taking care of yourself?” Mycroft asked, pointing at the bandage.

“That was taking care of your silly brother.”

“Don’t mention Sherlock. I’m annoyed with him.”

“Of course you are.” Mycroft looked agitated, so Greg snuggled up against him. “Why don’t we go back to your place and pick up where we were interrupted the other night?”

“Splendid idea.”

Greg sighed and closed his eyes for the rest of the drive, falling asleep within a few minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

When they arrived at Mycroft’s house, he hesitated, watching Gregory sleep. He wished he had any upper body strength, wistfully considering how romantic it would be for him to carry Gregory up the stairs and put him to bed. Briefly, he considered having one of the security guards carry Gregory, so as not to wake him, but decided that might be awkward for all parties.

Finally, Mycroft settled on rousing Gregory just enough so they could walk upstairs together. He stooped so that Gregory could rest his head on the taller man’s shoulder as he drowsily stumbled into the house and up the stairs. When they reached the bedroom, Mycroft rested him gently on the bed and began to remove his shoes.

“What’re you doing?” Gregory asked faintly, trying to cling to consciousness.

“Sh, my dear. Go to sleep.” He finished undressing Gregory and tucked the sheets around him, planting a gentle kiss on his sleeping love’s forehead.

Still feeling particularly tense from the earlier stress of Gregory being injured, Mycroft took a relaxing bath and then returned to bed. He wasn’t tired, but he wanted to be near Gregory after the events of the day. He had been in a late meeting when Anthea had interrupted him to inform him that Sherlock and Gregory had both been injured and taken to the hospital. Mycroft had a fleeting moment of utter panic, where he had considered rushing out of the meeting and to the hospital to reassure himself that Gregory was well.

Sherlock was injured with some regularity and as a result, Mycroft barely worried about him when he heard that something had happened. In general, emotion was not something that Mycroft really did. He had appropriate familial love and affection for Sherlock and his parents, but other than that, he had spent years learning how to deny his emotions. In his line of work, it was best to remain detached and he had trouble separating his work life and his personal life. Now that he was involved with Gregory, however, he was feeling very emotionally inexperienced. The thought of his sweet, sexy man being injured sent terror shooting through him and he didn’t know how to control it. His icy facade did not break, however, and he finished the meeting with his usual professionalism. Once he was back in his office, however, he immediately called Gregory, feeling frantic.

“Hello, love,” Gregory answered the phone, his voice gruff.

“What happened?” Mycroft asked. Fortunately his voice came out businesslike, hiding his inner turmoil.

“Some tosser with a knife happened. I’m fine. Just a flesh wound. I wouldn’t have even gone to the hospital, but I was more or less ordered to.”

“Well, I’m glad someone in your organization has sense. And Sherlock?”

“His cut was a little deeper. He needed some stitches and they have him on some strong pain medicine. Nothing that will get him high, he’s just a little groggy and cranky. We’re going to be here a while yet.”

“I can be there in ten minutes. Which hospital?”

Gregory gave a short laugh, which confused Mycroft. Mycroft was adept at dealing with people, but he didn’t always understand what other people found funny. “Mycroft, I’m fine. Keep working, please. I’ve had much worse.”

“Very well.” His voice seemed very clipped to his ears, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“And please don’t worry. I’m perfectly well. Promise me that you won’t worry.

“If I must,” Mycroft said after a brief pause. While lying normally didn’t bother him, he had a feeling that it would be unacceptable to lie to Gregory, given the nature of their relationship. If he didn’t actually say the words, he could convince himself that it wasn’t a lie, even though he had every intention of worrying until he saw Gregory and could confirm with his own eyes that everything was as well as he was being told.

When the phone call ended, Mycroft rang for Anthea and she came in carrying a tea tray with a file on it. He picked up the file as she poured him some tea, adding one more sugar than he normally took. The file contained photos of Gregory standing in a hospital room, shirtless, a bandage on his shoulder and holding his phone to his ear. A time stamp at the bottom showed that the pictures had been pulled from surveillance footage three minutes earlier, while Mycroft was talking to Gregory.

Mycroft nodded at Anthea as she left, making a mental note to give her a raise. She always knew exactly what he needed.

“Mycroft,” Gregory said, interrupting his memory.

“Yes?” Mycroft asked softly, looking down at his sleepy lover.

“Go to sleep. I’m here now, safe and sound.”

Mycroft smiled and lay down, turning to face Gregory. “I am glad that you are here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Gregory leaned forward and kissed Mycroft gently.

A contented sigh escaped from Mycroft’s lips and he closed his eyes.

“Actually,” Greg said quietly. “Now that I’m awake…”

Mycroft’s eyes snapped open and he smiled at the wicked grin on Gregory’s face. He leaned forward for a deep kiss, holding the back of Gregory’s neck firmly.

“You should not be using that arm,” Mycroft said, glancing at the bandage. “It would be irresponsible to risk any further damage.”

“Love, I’m—” Mycroft interrupted him with a kiss. Emboldened by the intense feelings he had been experiencing for the past several hours, he gently pressed on Gregory’s shoulder so he laid on his back. Mycroft straddled him and leaned in for a lingering kiss before sliding down the bed. He lay on Gregory’s legs, taking a moment to smile up at him before pulling down his boxers to reveal his partially erect cock.  
It was the first time that Mycroft was able to see it up close. He had felt it while snogging and while sharing a bed, but he had never really seen it. Taking a moment, he studied every inch of it, committing it to memory. He cautiously leaned forward and kissed it.

A sharp intake of breath made him look up at Gregory. “You-you don’t have to do that,” Gregory told him, his eyes half closed from lust. “You know, if you don’t really want to.”

Mycroft was touched at how concerned Gregory was with his comfort. It was obvious from his position that Gregory wanted more, but he was risking not getting what he wanted so they didn’t move too quickly for Mycroft.

Without warning, Mycroft ducked his head and took Gregory entirely in his mouth. It hurt a bit, stretching his mouth wide enough to accommodate it, but he ignored the discomfort and sucked experimentally. Despite the slight pain, there was something very satisfying about it. He pulled his head back so his lips were around the tip and pressed his tongue to the slit, then ducked his head again. Gregory let out a moan and rested his hand on Mycroft’s head and Mycroft persisted, bobbing his head and letting his lips slide up and down Gregory’s shaft.

He paused with his lips at different points and sucked, testing out the reactions he received. After a few moments, his jaw really started to hurt. He pulled off and ran his tongue up the shaft before planting kisses along the length of it.

“Alright?” Gregory asked, panting slightly.

Mycroft was a little embarrassed, but he wanted to be truthful. “Tired jaw. You are too big for my mouth.”

Gregory chuckled. “That’s a nice problem to have.”

“Yes, especially since the solution is for me to practice regularly.” Mycroft took Gregory’s cock all the way in his mouth again. He remembered their first text conversation and let his teeth lightly graze Gregory, varying the pressure and listening carefully for the noises Gregory made to give him an indication of which pressure was best.

When his jaw tired again, Mycroft pulled back a bit, sucking lightly on the tip and stroking firmly with his hand.

“Oh, that’s great,” Gregory murmured, bucking his hips slightly. He began a monologue between moans, explaining all of the dirty things that he wanted to do to Mycroft. Mycroft blushed slightly at what Gregory was saying, but soon became too distracted to care how filthy the suggestions were.

Mycroft had pulled his mouth away and was carefully watching his hand, which was still hard at work. “Warn me when you get close,” he said quietly. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

“What?” Gregory asked, sounding very distracted.

“I want to taste you and feel your orgasm. I want to swallow you.”

Gregory let out a strangled cry of, “I’m close,” and Mycroft swiftly slid the shaft into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could. After a moment, Gregory tensed briefly before letting out a shout and then Mycroft’s mouth was filling with a salty liquid faster than he could swallow it. When it was over, Mycroft pulled back and looked up at Gregory’s face, licking his lips to clean up some semen that had dribbled out.

Gregory was staring at him, looking dazed. “That was incredible. Where did you learn to do that?”

Mycroft couldn’t help himself: he blushed and smiled as he crawled back up the bed, pleased with Gregory’s reaction. “I didn’t learn it anywhere, I just did it.”

“You are amazing,” Gregory said, pulling Mycroft close and holding him tightly. He seemed to doze for a couple minutes before startling awake. “You had me feeling so great that I forgot about you,” he said quietly, glancing down Mycroft’s body.

Mycroft buried his head in Gregory’s side, blushing furiously. “It is not necessary for you to do anything. I…um…” he couldn’t think of a way to tell Gregory that he had gotten overexcited at the sound of Gregory’s orgasm that wasn’t extremely embarrassing.

“Oh Mycroft,” Gregory breathed, “that’s so hot.”

Mycroft felt the tension melt away, sighing happily as he began to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter in my head for a while. People giving perfect blow jobs on their first try is a pet peeve of mine. That shit takes some getting used to. So I tried to write a realistic one. I hope it's not too awkward.
> 
> It's been so long since I've written anything! I should be posting quite a bit next month, because I am doing Mystrade fan fiction for NaNoWriMo. I have several stories in mind already and I'll be looking for prompts to get as much written as possible, so if anyone has any prompt they'd like filled let me know and I'll do my best. I'm going to try to finish this by the end of the month so that I can start with a clean slate, so I'll hopefully be posting regularly for the next week as well.
> 
> Also, I'm now on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maebellesarah)! I'm not quite sure how it works yet, but I have a friend tutoring me, so hopefully I'll pick it up quickly. 
> 
> As always, if there's an error with this, please let me know! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg was super playful in this chapter. It was fun to write, so I hope everyone enjoys it!

Greg stretched, groaning at the pain in his shoulder. He opened his eyes and sat up, smiling when he saw the glass of water on the bedside table next to his pain pills from the hospital. He took one and looked at his phone, responding to some messages from colleagues before standing up and heading to the loo.

He smiled when he saw that a bag of his clothes and things was sitting next to the shower on it. There was a note on top of it:

_I took the liberty of sending Anthea for some of your things. Breakfast will be available downstairs when you are ready. —M_

Sitting next to the sink was everything Greg needed to chance the bandages on his shoulder. He took a shower, redressed his wound, and got dressed. He wandered into the hallway and downstairs, finding a very large kitchen. Anthea was sitting at a table in the corner, typing rapidly on a computer.

“Good morning, Detective Inspector Lestrade,” she said, standing when she saw Greg.

“Call me Greg, please,” he said, smiling brightly at her.

“Yes, sir. What can I make you for breakfast?”

“Do you do everything for Mycroft?”

“He is a very busy man. If he could be here to offer breakfast, he would.” Anthea’s professional demeanor wasn’t breaking at all, but Greg was sure that she was worried that her presence was upsetting to him.

Gregory flashed her another smile and began asking about what food was available.

He was just finishing his breakfast when Mycroft came into the kitchen, stooping and planting a kiss on Greg’s forehead. Anthea had disappeared somewhere, so Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s middle and held on tightly.

“Last night was wonderful,” Greg said with a happy sigh.

“For me, too. I wish we could do that every night.”

“Just the stuff that happened once we were here. I could do without the stabbing part.”

Mycroft chuckled and sat down. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I have some paperwork to file, so I will be going in to the office. I may make it a short day, but that’s unlikely. Maybe we can have dinner tonight?”

“I would enjoy that. But instead of a restaurant, may I cook you dinner here?” Mycroft seemed nervous again. Greg needed to do something about that; there was no reason for Mycroft to be nervous around him.

Greg took Mycroft’s hands in his and squeezed them. “Of course.” He stood and stretched, being careful of his shoulder. “I should be heading out.”

“Take my car. When you’re ready to return, let me know and I will send it.”

Greg gave him a slow, lingering kiss before leaving. He enjoyed the ride to his office, remembering his first kiss with Mycroft, right where he was sitting.

When he got out of the car, Sally was standing outside the building, staring at him. “What’s with the car, boss?” she asked, watching as it drove away.

“Boyfriend’s car,” Greg said, walking inside.

She followed, looking shocked. “Dating a posh bloke, huh? What does he see in you?”

Greg snorted. “Something you’ll never see, Sally. Is it that surprising?”

“Well, yes. When do I get to meet him? We should all go out to the pub this weekend.”

“He’s not really a ‘going to the pub’ sort of person. He’d probably go if I asked him, though.”

“So ask him. I want to meet him.”

Arriving at his office, Greg sat down at his desk. He wasn’t sure how much to tell Sally. He trusted her not to gossip if he told her something in confidence, but he hadn’t discussed with Mycroft if they were public yet. He motioned for her to close the door. She did and sat down, looking at him expectantly.

“You’ve met him already.”

Sally looked confused. “Who is he?”

Greg took a deep breath. “Mycroft Holmes.”

She stared. “The freak’s brother?”

“Sally…” Greg said in a warning tone. “You are not to call him that.”

“You’re dating a Holmes. You’re going to marry into the family that created Sherlock Holmes.” She seemed dazed, as if she didn’t know what to say.

“We’re hardly getting married. We’ve been on a few dates. That’s all.”

“You’ve never looked so happy, Greg. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so purely happy.”

Greg smiled. “I am happy. That doesn’t mean I’m getting married anytime soon.”

“He was so rude when he was here.”

“He only returned your rudeness.”

“You weren’t here when he came in. He waltzed in as if he owned the place and sat down in your office after barking orders at us to find you.”

“He’s assertive. It isn’t a terrible quality.” Greg was getting annoyed with Sally’s criticisms of Mycroft, but now that he had told her about the relationship, he wanted to be on her good side.

“When did this happen? After meeting him yesterday? That seems fast. Or were you playacting when you pretended to not know him.”

“That may have been an act. I wasn’t sure how to act with him in your presence.”

“So you decided to act like you’d never met the man you’re shagging? That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I think we’re keeping it quiet just now. We haven’t discussed it. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything. I’m trusting you here.”

“Of course. Though I don’t care how posh he is, if he hurts you, I will destroy him.”

Greg chuckled at Sally’s thought that she could ever do anything to Mycroft. He was trying to figure out how if he should say something about Mycroft being to powerful for that when his phone rang.

“Speak of the devil,” he said, glancing at the phone. “We’ll finish talking about this later.”

“Hello, love,” Greg said as Sally left the office, shutting the door behind her.

“What did you tell Sally?” Mycroft asked, sounding a little too casual.

Greg grinned. “Spying on me already? We’ll have to do something about that. She figured out that I had a new boyfriend yesterday, so I was honest with her.”

“Won’t she tell your other colleagues?”

“She might gossip about me dating someone new, but I asked her not to say anything about you. She won’t betray my trust. She did say that she would destroy you if you hurt me, though.”

“How would she do that?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. So, was there a reason for this call or did you just want to know if I’m keeping you secret enough for your liking?”

“You do not have to keep me secret. The thought of you bragging about me is…not unpleasant.”

“Oh, I see. You want me to tell everyone that I have the sexiest boyfriend in the world. Is that it?” Greg couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gregory. As long as you do not share any classified information, I do not object to you telling others of our association.”

“Well, now that I have your permission, everyone will know.”

“If you think that is best,” Mycroft said in his normal, detached voice, but Greg was sure that there was a delighted edge to his words.

“Good, that’s settled. Are you able to meet me around noon?”

“For lunch?”

“Well, I was hoping for a quick handy in your car, but if you want to eat too, we can.” Greg could almost hear Mycroft blush at that and smiled.

“Yes, I would quite enjoy meeting you for lunch.”

“Anthea’s there, is she? Well, I suppose I’ll stop torturing you. Pick me up then and we’ll go somewhere?”

“Very well. I shall see you then.”

Greg hung up the phone and finally got to work. Moments later, he received a text message. He opened it and almost dropped his phone when he realized that it was. It was a picture of Mycroft’s trousers with the outline of his erect cock visible, captioned

“See what you do to me?”

Mouth watering, Greg thought about how to respond. Anyone could enter his office at any time, so he couldn’t take any sort of response picture. He adjusted his own half-hard cock, hoping that no one needed him for a few minutes, and opted for a mildly suggestive threat.

_You’ll pay for that, Holmes. —G_

Mycroft’s response, when it came, made Greg groan and wish noon would hurry up and arrive.

_I’m counting on it. —M_

***

At noon, Greg stood outside with Sally and several others from his department, most of whom were smoking. He leaned against the building with his arms crossed casually, occasionally scanning the street for Mycroft’s car. Just as he expected, it arrived precisely at noon. Rather than get in the car, Greg just stood there and looked at it expectantly. He knew that Mycroft could see him and would know what he wanted, so he just waited.

After a minute, the door opened and Mycroft stepped out. He straightened his suit and walked confidently over to the group, looking very prim. Greg heard some comments here and there about Mycroft, including a few insults, but he ignored them, locking eyes with Mycroft, a smile playing at his lips.

As Mycroft reached the group, Greg stepped forward and held out his hand as if to shake. Looking slightly suspicious, Mycroft moved to take the proffered hand. Greg grabbed it and pulled sharply, throwing Mycroft off balance. He caught the taller man against his chest, put his hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. Mycroft didn’t hesitate before returning the kiss, apparently forgetting himself.

When they finally parted, Greg grinned at the slightly dazed Mycroft. He glanced at the group of people who surrounded them, who all looked utterly shocked. “Glad that’s sorted,” he said, took Mycroft’s hand, and led the way to the car.

“What was that?” Mycroft asked when they were seated and the car was moving.

Greg shrugged. “You didn’t want to be a secret.”

“That wasn’t precisely what I meant when I said that,” Mycroft said, trying to regain his composure.

“I owed you one, remember?” Greg asked. He slid closer to Mycroft, kissing him gently on the cheek. “Now, how about that handy?”

Mycroft smiled, reaching for Greg’s trousers. “Okay.”

“Not me. You.” Greg nibbled on Mycroft’s earlobe as he unbuttoned his trousers. “I haven’t had a chance to get my hands on you yet, you tease.”

Mycroft shivered and Greg moved lower to kiss his neck, slipping his hand into Mycroft’s pants and taking his thickening cock in hand. He began stroking hard and fast, like he liked it and watched Mycroft’s reaction.

Mycroft began moaning and muttering almost so low that Greg couldn’t hear it: “Oh god, oh yes, that’s so good. Oh, oh, just like that, yes, oh you’re going to make me come so hard.” He continued muttering, closing his eyes and starting to buck his hips. Greg could feel his body reacting to what he was seeing. Watching Mycroft react so obviously was the hottest thing that Greg had ever seen and he was sure that if watched enough of it, he wouldn’t need any manual reciprocation from Mycroft.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Greg murmured, before kissing his way around to the other side of Mycroft’s neck. He cursed his lack of foresight and Mycroft’s shirt collar, but he worked around it kissing up Mycroft’s jaw to his ear and earning a gasp of pleasure for his efforts.

“I…I—Gregory,” Mycroft panted gripping Greg’s shirt tightly.

Greg swooped down and took the head of Mycroft’s cock in his mouth just in time to catch the first spurt of semen. He swallowed it all down and made sure to lick Mycroft clean before straightening and tucking it carefully away.  
Mycroft was staring at him, open-mouthed.

Greg shrugged again. “Well, I didn’t want to make a mess of your suit.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to go to bed, but I got caught up in writing this. Who needs sleep, right? Hope everyone enjoys it!

Mycroft suspected that he was in love and it terrified him.

He had spent such a large portion of his life learning to suppress his emotions that he was completely unprepared for what he was now feeling. Other than teenage infatuations, he had never been in love. His feelings had never been reciprocated, so it was very odd to him to have a man who wanted to be with him. Every time he texted or called Gregory, he was sure that he was being annoying and that he would soon be told to piss off. It was only when they were together and Mycroft could read the interest and emotion all over Gregory’s face that he was secure in the relationship. Gregory, of course, did nothing to encourage these feelings; he was nothing less than the perfect boyfriend, constantly sending sweet texts and doing everything he could to make Mycroft happy. Mycroft’s emotional immaturity, however, wouldn’t let him see how silly his fears were. Not only was he constantly anxious that Gregory would decide that there were better men for him, but he didn’t know how to handle his new possessiveness over and obsession with his boyfriend. He thought about Gregory constantly, almost always wondering what Gregory was doing, who he was with, and if he was thinking of Mycroft when they were apart. Only when they were together was his mind quiet and he was relaxed.

They had several more dates over the next couple weeks, generally ending up at Mycroft’s home, where Gregory stayed the night after increasingly interesting activities. After one such night, Mycroft was lying in bed, watching Gregory sleep.

“What are you thinking?” Gregory asked suddenly, opening his eyes.

Mycroft was surprised that Gregory was awake. He wasn’t sure how exactly he should answer Gregory, eventually settling on the truth. “I think I am going mad,” he said quietly.

Gregory was taken aback. “Why are you going mad?”

Mycroft sighed deeply and explained about his obsession and anxiety. While talking he avoided Gregory’s gaze, cursing himself with every word for being so vulnerable.

Gregory reached out and stroked Mycroft’s cheek. “That’s not going mad, love, that’s being in a new relationship. You’re just inexperienced.”

“I’m too old to be feeling like a teenager.”

Gregory chuckled. “Well, you didn’t get it over with when you were a teenager, so you need to endure it now.”

“How do I make it stop?”

“It will, over time. And so you know, I’m constantly thinking of you as well. You don’t need to worry about how I feel about you. I love you, Mycroft.”

Mycroft stared at him, his mouth dropping open wordlessly. He didn’t know what to say; he was fairly certain that he loved Gregory as well, but he didn’t know if he should say it back.

After a few moments of Mycroft panicking, Gregory smiled and leaned forward for a kiss. “You don’t have to respond. I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt.”

Mycroft nodded. “Thank you.”

Gregory laughed. “You’re welcome, Mycroft. Now get some sleep. I’m sure you have a very busy day of running the country tomorrow.”

***

The next day, Mycroft was very distracted. It was so bad that shortly before lunch Anthea came into his office, locked the door, and sat across his desk from him. “What’s wrong?”

Mycroft looked up, feeling his facade cracking. “Gregory said that he loves me,” he said miserably.

Anthea sighed. “And you didn’t know how to answer him?” Relieved that she knew him so well, Mycroft nodded. “Well, how do you think you feel?”

“I do not feel. I am the Ice Man.”

Anthea rolled her eyes. “You have just as many feelings as anyone. You are perhaps more adept at controlling them, but you have strong feelings for Sherlock and I know you’re developing strong feelings for Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“It cannot possibly end well. It is impossible that I shall be happy in that way.”

“Why not? The Detective Inspector is perfect for you. He clearly has no intention of things ending unhappily.”

Mycroft considered what she was saying. When he was young, he had assumed that he would always be alone. No one had ever shown an interest in him before and as he aged, his inexperience seemed an impossible obstacle to overcome. He had been shocked when Gregory asked him for a date and now that their relationship had been developing over a number of weeks, he realized that he had been in a sort of daze at the thought that someone could find him attractive and would want to have sex with him or even date him. Even now, it felt surreal. It was almost as if he didn’t want to admit that he loved Gregory, just in case it was all some strange joke on Gregory’s part. That was silly, he told himself, but he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.  
Mycroft sighed and put his head in his hands. “I do not want to say anything to him until I am sure that I truly reciprocate his feelings.”

“As you shouldn’t. Only tell him that you love him when you are positive that you do, in fact, love him and want to be with him forever.”

Mycroft looked at Anthea thoughtfully. “When did you become so wise in the ways of love?”

She grinned. “I had time to date once. Before I came to work for you, of course.”

“Is working what you do for me? I was under the impression that you just meddled in my love life.” Mycroft smiled, enjoying teasing Anthea.

“What love life?” Anthea shot back before reaching over and squeezing his hand supportively and leaving.

***

Later, Mycroft was sitting in his personal study in his part of the house with Sherlock, sharing a glass of brandy.

“John and I have begun a relationship,” Sherlock said abruptly.

Mycroft nodded. “I know.”

“Of course you do.” Sherlock smiled slightly, his face assuming a peculiar expression. “Did you ever think the two of us would find love?”

“Is that what we have? Love?” Mycroft stared into the fireplace, his mind going back to his worries about Gregory.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Of course it is. You can’t possibly think that you have anything other than love for Lestrade.”

“How would you know? You are just as clueless about emotions as I am.”

“I may be clueless about emotions, but I can still read them. And you have it bad, brother dear.”

“Maybe. I just need to be sure.”

“Well, now I’ve told you, so you can be. I’m never wrong about these things.”

“Do you ever think you are wrong about anything?”

“Am I ever wrong about anything?”

Mycroft laughed, Sherlock joining him. “Still the same difficult child you’ve already been. I am pleased that you’ve found love,” he added after a moment.

“You’ve found love too, whether you would like to admit it or not. You and Lestrade are going to get married and be together forever.”

“And you are always right, so you are most certainly right about this. Correct?”

Sherlock grinned. “See? Problem solved.”

***

Mycroft got a text that night about midnight from Sherlock saying that he and John were doing something dangerous together for a case that Gregory asked them to help on. Mycroft couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong, just like the last time they did something with Gregory, but he tried to ignore it. He called Gregory before he went to sleep, just in case, and had a nice, quick conversation, during which Gregory told him that everything was fine and there was minimal danger.

“Sir! You need to wake up!” It took a moment for Mycroft to realize that Anthea’s voice sounded strange because she was actually in the room with him rather than waking him up over the intercom. “There’s been an accident.”

At the word “accident” Mycroft sat bolt upright. “Who’s hurt?” he asked urgently, standing and starting to get dressed.

“I don’t know for sure, sir. Gregory, Sherlock, and John were in a car that was hit by a lorry. All involved parties are being taken to hospital, I thought it would be better not to wait.”

“Were there any fatalities?” he asked as he put his shoes on.

Anthea hesitated. “One. I haven’t heard a name or a description yet.”

Mycroft felt his stomach drop from underneath him. He doubted that in a lorry accident the lorry would be worse off: that meant that it was likely that his brother, his lover, or his brother’s lover were dead. Trying not to think about that, he followed Anthea down to the car, to be taken to hospital, where he could find those he loved.

It was clear when he arrived at the hospital that they were scrambling to prepare everything for his visit. When he arrived, he was taken to an office, where he paced impatiently for what seemed like hours. Eventually, he left the office to find Anthea sitting on an uncomfortable chair outside. “Why do we have no information?” he snapped.

“I think they’re busy trying to save some lives,” she said drily. “I can try to go find someone with information.”

“I cannot wait for that. I will find them.” He strode off in what he hoped was the right direction, followed closely by Anthea.

Eventually he found a nurse who knew about the accident. She led him to a room where John Watson was pacing, looking like he was also going out of his mind with worry. “Mycroft!” John shouted when he saw him. “Where’s Sherlock? No one will tell me anything!”

Mycroft’s heart sank. “I am having similar problems. Where is Gregory.” His voice was very quiet, which seemed to surprise John, who stared at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him after the accident. I was on the other side of the car, in the back. He was driving, the side that…the side that was hit.”

Mycroft turned and nearly walked into a doctor who was coming into the room. He leaned toward the man, causing him to shrink back a bit. “I need information, now. I need to know the status of Gregory Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes. If you do not get me the information I require in less than five minutes, not only will you never practice medicine again, but I will utterly destroy you and everyone you love.”

The man glanced first at John, who looked terrified, and then at Anthea, who was giving her very best dangerous look. The man turned and walked quickly out of the room.

The doctor returned after four and a half minutes with two files, which he held out to Mycroft. Anthea took them and looked over them while the doctor stuttered his way through an explanation. “Sherlock Holmes is having emergency surgery to repair a broken leg. Gregory Lestrade is also in emergency surgery, to repair some very serious internal injuries.”

“Oh, Mycroft,” John said quietly. Mycroft looked at him to see that he was holding the file that was marked with Gregory’s name.

“Is it bad?” Mycroft asked, even though he could easily read the answer on John’s face.

John looked up at him, his face as white as a sheet. “It is. Very, very bad.”

“What are his chances?”

John took a deep breath. “Not very good. There’s a good chance he won’t make it.”

Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment and then turned back to the doctor. “I will need some office space as close to wherever Gregory Lestrade is. When he is moved, I will need the office space moved. It needs to be absolutely private so I can go about my business while I am waiting for him to recover. I will wait here until you have the office ready.”

He turned to Anthea, but she was ready for him. “Everything you need to work is being brought over from the house. The best surgeon in London will be here in ten minutes, I sent him a car. If you require anything else, I will get it for you.” She turned to the doctor and took him by the arm, leading him out of the room.

“Can I do anything?” John asked softly. He seemed scared of what Mycroft was going to say.

“Close the door,” Mycroft said in the smallest voice he had ever heard come out of himself. As soon as John closed the door, Mycroft’s legs decided that they no longer wanted to work and he crumpled.

John moved faster than Mycroft thought possible, catching him and setting him on a nearby chair. He put his head close to Mycrofts, in a position that was very strange, considering that John Watson hated Mycroft. “He will be fine. Our Greg is going to be just fine. We just have to get through the bad part. One bad night and everything will be okay.”

Mycroft nodded, even though he was sure that John was wrong. He brain didn’t appear to be working fast enough to argue, however, so he was sat there, nodding dumbly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write in the middle of the night. I should get the next chapter written and posted tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one. Enjoy!

Mycroft was sitting at a desk that had been set up in a hospital room. There were several CCTV stills spread out in front of him: the pictures Anthea had given him of Gregory in the hospital after being stabbed; a picture of Gregory and Mycroft outside the restaurant at the end of their first date, looking nervous and awkward; a picture of Mycroft held tightly in Gregory’s arms and being thoroughly kissed amongst a crowd of Gregory’s colleagues; and finally, a picture Mycroft hadn’t known existed, not CCTV, of the two of them in an embrace in Mycroft’s office, taken by Anthea. He had been staring at the pictures for some time, since Anthea had shown him to his makeshift office forty minutes earlier.

With a shaky sigh, Mycroft scooped the pictures up and placed them gingerly in a desk drawer, turning to his laptop and forcing his mind to consider the problems of running a country. His tense posture relaxed a bit as he began working, familiar problems to work through giving him a way to distract his brain. Before he knew it, Anthea was coming into the room with breakfast.

“Sherlock is awake,” she said quietly when he looked up at her. “He wants to see you.”

Mycroft knew that he needed to go see his brother, but he couldn’t make himself. The thought of seeing Sherlock in a hospital bed was too much: he might have been able to handle it if Gregory were fine and hadn’t been involved, but it would be too much of a reminder that the man he loved was still in surgery, still at risk of dying from his injuries.

He knew that he loved Gregory now. It was so obvious that he was completely head-over-heels in love that he couldn’t believe he had ever doubted it. The thought of being without Gregory for the rest of his life hurt more than anything he had ever felt.

Mycroft shook his head and Anthea left again. His vision went blurry as tears filled his eyes and he put his face in his hands, willing himself not to cry. Mycroft hadn’t cried since he was a baby. According to his mother, he barely even cried then, a stoic, serious child. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes and stood. He needed to get out of the hospital and clear his head. He left Anthea in charge of the room, telling her to call with any developments and left to go on a walk.

Very few people knew who Mycroft was, but all of the most dangerous people certainly did, so security was very important. Because of this, he rarely went for a walk or did many things outside, not willing to take the risk and desiring to trouble as few people as possible with his safety. He was so distraught and needed to escape so badly that he gave no warning of his plans, causing his security people to scramble to take precautions. His behavior was extremely out of character, but no one said anything. Normally, Anthea would have said something, admonishing him for causing so many people so much stress, but when he told her his plans she just nodded and began typing on her phone, no doubt informing everyone of their protection duties.

Mycroft walked for over an hour, until he found himself in front of a jewelry store, staring at a display of rings sitting under an advertisement about marriage proposals. His phone beeped and he looked at it to see a text message:

_G out of surgery, 25% chance he will wake up and be fine. —A_

He hesitated for only a moment and then went into the store.

It only took moments for him to find the perfect ring, a simple gold band. He had it inscribed, paying an absurd amount of money to have it done within an hour.

Mycroft returned to the hospital, going immediately to Sherlock’s room. He needed to go see Gregory, but he needed a moment with his brother first. When Sherlock saw who it was, he asked John to leave them and beckoned Mycroft to come to his side.

Without a word to Mycroft, he pulled him down into a tight embrace and held him. The tears that had been threatening all day finally fell from Mycroft’s eyes and he wept into his little brother’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Mycroft straightened up and sat in a chair next to the bed, wiping his eyes.

“You know Lestrade is going to be fine,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly. “He couldn’t possibly be anything other than fine.”

“You think everyone you love is invincible, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, starting to feel numb again after his breakdown.

“You have the best doctors in the country taking care of him. They’ll save him.”

Mycroft just sighed and shook his head, unable to argue once again. Just at that moment, Anthea burst into the room, breathless and nearly hysterical. Mycroft looked at her enquiringly and she gestured for him to go with her, tears filling her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Greg woke slowly, aching all over. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized that he was in hospital. He looked to his left, where John Watson was sitting on a chair, watching him. It wasn’t who he would have expected to be with him when something was wrong and he wondered where Mycroft was. When John realized that he was awake, hie eyes went wide and he jumped up.

“Greg!”

“What happened?” Greg asked, his voice raspy.

“Accident with a lorry. We didn’t think you would make it.”

Greg looked John up and down. The last thing he remembered, he had been driving a car with Sherlock in the front passenger seat and John sitting behind him. John had a bandage on his head and seemed to have some scrapes and bruises. “Sherlock?” Greg asked, wondering why on Earth John was with Greg instead of his boyfriend.

“Broken leg, but otherwise fine. He’s with Mycroft. They needed a moment.”

“Is Mycroft okay?”

John didn’t respond right away, which scared Greg. “He’s not quite his normal self. He’s worried about you.”

Greg had opened his mouth to ask John to go get him when the door opened and Mycroft stepped in. While Greg was quite sure that he wasn’t looking his best, having just been in a car accident, but Mycroft’s appearance shocked him. Mycroft’s eyes were red, as if he had been crying, his suit was wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

Without a word, Mycroft moved over to the bed, pulling something out of his pocket. He kissed Greg gently, pressing something small and soft into his hand.

When Mycroft pulled away, Greg opened the box in his hand. Inside was a simple gold band, inscribed with the date they had met. Greg took the band out and put it on his ring finger, looking up at Mycroft with tears in his eyes.

“I love you,” Mycroft whispered.

“Thank you,” Greg whispered back, smiling.

Mycroft laughed and wiped away a tear. “Are you crying, Mycroft?” Greg asked, unable to keep the amazement out of his voice.

“Of course not,” Mycroft said after taking a steadying breath. “You know very well that I do not cry.”

“Of course not.”

“How do you feel?” Mycroft asked, sitting down next to the bed and taking Greg’s hand.

“Like I was hit by a lorry,” Greg said with a grin.

“That isn’t funny,” Mycroft said drily, but his eyes showed relief, as if he were happy that Greg was his usual self.

“Why the day we met?” Greg asked suddenly, glancing at the ring.

“That is the most fortuitous day of my life,” Mycroft said shyly, avoiding Greg’s gaze.

“Mine too. It almost makes dealing with Sherlock worthwhile.”

“Nothing makes dealing with Sherlock worthwhile.” Mycroft’s eyes were twinkling now and he looked like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Greg kissed Mycroft’s hand. “I love you, Mycroft.”

“And I love you, Gregory.”

***

Greg looked at his reflection in the mirror, smoothing his hair nervously. He had been released from the hospital the week before after an extended stay. Despite his internal injuries, he had been lucky: there was no damage to his spine and his recovery had been relatively quick, considering the severity of the accident. It wouldn’t be too much longer before things were back to normal. He had already returned to work, eager to get back into the swing of things.

The door opened and John entered Greg’s dressing room, a big smile on his face. “Are you ready? It’s time to get things started.”

Greg nodded, returning the smile. “I’m surprised that you’re so happy for me to be marrying Mycroft. I thought he was ‘the biggest git you’d ever met.’”

John shrugged. “You two are well matched. You’re a close second.”

“It isn’t too late to get a new best man, Watson,” Greg said playfully. He gave himself one last once-over in the mirror before following John out of the room and downstairs to the back garden of Mycroft’s house — Greg’s house now too, he reminded himself — to marry the man he loved. As he walked down to aisle to meet Mycroft, he noticed that his formerly cold, detached fiance was once again crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I wasn't expecting to end this quite so soon, but it just seemed right to end here. Thank you so much for reading, leaving comments, and giving me kudos. I hope everyone enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> In November I should be posting quite a few Mystrade stories, so keep an eye out for them! I'm writing Mystrade one shots for NaNoWriMo, so if you have anything you'd like to read, feel free to comment prompts here or send me prompts. Also, I'm now on Tumblr!


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